To behold the swarthy visage of Mac Flecknoe,
When first he entered upon his reign, the trembling welkin
Seemed to stoop, and listen to the voice of dulness; the very muse
With folded wing and a perplexed look, retired.
The seats of wit, once crowded, were deserted; the throng
Of little wits, that wont to jostle, left the field;
And the whole herd of critics, silent, fetched a sigh.